Moments of Weakness, Moments of Truth
by LongTimeFan
Summary: Not all damage caused by a Wraith attack is physical in nature. Minor first season spoilers.


Title: Moments of Weakness; Moments of Truths v2

AN: Most of this piece was written in 2005 and shared with a few friends (waving to any of them who may see this). I was never quite happy with the ending then. Just pulled it out again and virtually rewrote the last third of it. Unabashedly John\Elizabeth. I hope you enjoy it. As always, all errors are mine.

Original AN: What if there were more attacks before the one showed in The Siege? And what did John really mean when he said "you know I have to" when he was leaving on his suicide mission. Minor first season spoilers.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. All rights belong to others. Merely borrowing characters and concepts for short time and will return in relatively the same shape as when taken.

Taping the bandage he had just wrapped around Major John Sheppard's left forearm, Doctor Carson Beckett stepped back and nodded at his patient. "Watch that for any sign of redness or swelling. Or if it starts to hurt ya more, let me know right away," he said picking up John's chart to make a notation. "Oh, and keep it dry, at least for the next 24 hours," he added as an after thought. "Follow my advice and you shouldn't even have much of a scar there."

"Gonna guarantee that one, Doctor?" John asked, amusement in his voice.

"The one thing I learned in medical school is that there are no guarantees," Beckett dryly replied.

Standing up, Sheppard nodded his agreement. "Thanks Doctor," he said picking up his clothes from the bed. "I'll catch you later."

"Major?"

The doctor's questioning tone halted Sheppard. Turning he looked questioningly at the physician.

"Have ya seen Doctor Weir since you came back?" Carson asked.

Shaking his head, John thought the question was a little odd since the doctor knew full well that Sheppard had come straight to the infirmary to get his arm tended upon his return through the gate. "Should I have?"

"Well...," Carson started, putting down the chart.

Seeing the obvious signs that the doctor was arguing with himself on whether or not he should continue, Sheppard took a step back toward Beckett. "Did something happen that I should know about? Is she okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Beckett faced the Major. "The list of causalities from the last Wraith attack... have ya seen it?"

"Yeah," John drawled slowly running the report through his mind, unsure of where this was going. "We lost six."

"Seven," Beckett corrected softly. "The patrol found another body on the outer edges of the city while you were gone." Pausing a moment to allow his words to fully sink in, he added, "It was Marko."

John's eyes snapped up to Beckett's face. "As in Stephen Marko, the young anthropologist who...," Sheppard trailed off as Beckett nodded his head slowly.

"The very same."

"Crap," Sheppard hissed, rubbing his hand over his face tiredly. "Do you know where she is?" he sighed.

"The last I saw her she was in her office."

"Thanks," the Major said as he turned and left the room.

Detouring to his quarters long enough to drop off his vest and pull on a clean t-shirt under his jacket, Major Sheppard strode through the hallways of Atlantis on his way to Dr. Weir's office. As he moved, his mind wondered to the woman he was headed to see and how she must be feeling.

Stephen Marko had been a green, baby-faced kid, straight out of college, when he had been selected for the Atlantis team. John had no idea how he had even been put into the running for such a highly classified and sensitive mission, but for some reason he had caught Elizabeth's eye as she was choosing the members of the expedition. She said he reminded her of herself at that age... enthusiastic, idealist, and, oh so, young.

Ever since Marko had walked through the gate with them on the first trip to Atlantis - and had immediately thrown up from the disorientation of gate travel - Elizabeth had taken him under her wing. It was rare that a day went past without the two of them talking. Sometimes the conversation was only about work - the analysis he had completed or his thoughts on some piece of relic that had been found on the base. Other times, the talk was about more personal topics - like who he was dating or what he had done on his off hours. John had even overheard him teasing her about her 'love' life and telling her about the staff pool on how long it would be before she and Sheppard became an "item."

John himself had teased Elizabeth on several occasions that Marko was her "pet" project since she couldn't bring her dog with her. She had laughed at this and said that he was more like the little brother she never had. She said it made things seem a little more like home for both of them.

Now, he was gone.

The thought depressed John more than he cared to admit. He didn't have long to dwell on it however as Doctor Rodney McKay, resident genius, spotted him coming towards him.

"You HAVE to see this," Rodney announced avidly, gesturing to the chart in his hand as he planted himself in front of Sheppard. "The relic we brought back from the mainland several weeks ago, the one you so blithely called a "paperweight" I might add," McKay voice dripped with sarcasm at the memory, "it turns out to be an early form of a sextant." Seeing a blank stare in Sheppard's eyes, he continued. "An instrument to measure altitudes of celestial bodies to determine longitude and latitude. Used by really old ships," he added condescendingly when he didn't get the reaction he expected.

Understanding, but not caring at the moment, John simply remarked "Not right now, Rodney," and moved to step around the scientist..

"Don't you realize what this could be?" McKay asked incredulously, moving to block John's advance "We may have found a relic of the Ancient's ancestors... an ancient Ancient, if you will." Noticing the bandage on John's arm, he added off handedly, "How's your arm?"

"I'll be fine," Sheppard replied, shrugging off the injury. "Look, I'm sure this is all very interesting, but..."

"Yes, yes.. I know, you have more "important" things to do," McKay snapped, starting to move. "Fine. I'll just talk to Doctor Marko directly and see what else he..."

Grabbing Rodney's arm, John stopped him. "You haven't heard, have you?"

"Heard what?" McKay asked, confused by the seriousness of John's voice and the strength of the grip on his arm.

"Marko's dead. They found him while we were gone," Sheppard added softly, easing his hold as shock registered on McKay's face.

"Dead?" Rodney asked disbelievingly. Seeing the confirmation in John's face, the scientist instinctively looked down at the last link he had to the promising young man - the hastily scrawled handwriting on the chart he was holding. Realization that he was probably holding the last piece of Stephen's existence shook him.

Racing, his mind suddenly hit on who would be most impacted by the loss. "Elizabeth? How is she...?" Rodney trailed off unsure of what to say; 'taking it' seemed wrong somehow.

"I'm on my way there now," John said gravely, knowing what Rodney was asking.

Nodding slowly, Rodney straightened his shoulders. As shocked and grieved as he was about the loss, he knew she would be far worse. "Please give her my condolences and tell her if there is anything I can, to please let me know," he stated formally.

As cold as he knew it sounded, Rodney hoped that John understood that he wasn't indifferent to the pain all of them were feeling. He just didn't know what to do with his own sense of loss, let alone anyone elses. So, to avoid it, he had learned long ago how to detach by intellectualizing any situation.

"I will," John answered, understanding in his eyes. Taking his leave, Sheppard moved down the hall.

Finally arriving outside of Elizabeth's office, John was brought up short by the door not opening automatically as usual. Waving his hand in front of the sensor again, he confirmed that it was not going to allow him to enter.

Knocking on the door, he called, "Dr. Weir? Are you in there?" Pausing a moment, he tried again. "Elizabeth?"

Knowing she would give him hell later for using it without good cause, Sheppard punched in the emergency override code on the door panel. Stepping through, he quickly scanned the room, only to find it empty. That did not mean she wasn't nearby however. Moving to the far wall, John activated the switch to open the doors leading to the viewing area. He could feel the wind on his face and smell the ocean air even before he made it outside.

He could also see Elizabeth standing in the shadows by the far railing, arms braced on the metal, staring into the churning waters below.

"I thought I locked the door to my office," Elizabeth said flatly, standing upright but not bothering to turn around. Only one person would come to find her out here when she had secured the entrance to her office.

"I unlocked it," John replied without remorse, halting behind her. "Had to be sure you weren't in any trouble or doing anything unauthorized, like... having a party without me," he added lightly, unsure of how to approach the subject for which he came.

"I see," Weir replied, a subtle hint of sad amusement in her voice. It always amazed her how he could get her to smile in the darkness of hours. "How long have you been back?"

"Not long," Sheppard lied. In truth, it had been almost two hours, but it didn't matter right now. He had spotted the headset lying on top of the stack of personnel files on her desk as he passed it. She had been out of touch with everything occurring in the station. He knew this meant she was taking Marko's death as hard as he had feared.

Silence descended for a few minutes between them before she spoke again. "You heard about Stephen?"

Sighing, John replied softly. "Yeah, I did. I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I know he was," John paused, looking for the right word, "special to you."

"He was special to all of us," she murmured. Swallowing hard, she wrapped her arms around her waist to ward off the cold and emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. When she spoke again, her voice was husky and low. "Most, if not all of us, look at Atlantis and only see what was. We talk in terms of what was here; of what is now gone. But not Stephen," her head shook as if to reinforce what she was saying. "He spoke of Atlantis in terms of what could be; of adventures and secrets yet to be revealed. I can't think of any one else who does that, can you?"

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at John for the first time. He could see the brightness of tears in her eyes. Moving towards her instinctively, he realized she had a point. "No, I can't." Desperately he wished he could find the words to help her. "But that doesn't mean we can't start."

John briefly saw a small, sad smile appear on Elizabeth's face before she turned away and again looked over the water. "It's too late," she replied softly, her words barely carrying back to him.

Tensing, John took a step forward. "What do you mean too late?"

"I'm tired, John," she said after a few moments. "I'm tired of the responsibility, of the constant pressure, the constant threat of another attack, the...of...," her voice broke. It was choked with emotion as she continued. "Of having to write and tape messages to the loved ones of those who have died. Message in which I can't even tell them where or how they died. Only... only that they are gone. That they will never... hear their laughter... or see them or..." She could not finish for the hurt that gripped her.

The raw anguish of Elizabeth's confession tore at John. Taking the final two steps, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against him. "Let it out," he whispered in her ear.

"I don't know if I can do it again," she sobbed. "What do I tell Stephen's parents? That he died because we - no, I - didn't know what we were walking into? Because I was arrogant enough to think we could just waltz into another galaxy and there wouldn't be repercussions? That..." Elizabeth was barely coherent.

"Shhhh," John hushed her self rebuke, raising one hand to trap her head against his. "It's not your fault," he added, unsure if she could even hear him, "none of it." He could feel the wetness of her tears on his face and the uncontrolled sobs that ravaged through her body. Feeling her body begin to sag, he tightened his hold. "I've got you," he murmured huskily.

John was unsure of how long it took for the current of grief cascading through Elizabeth's soul to subdue enough for her to begin to gain any emotional control. When he could feel the intensity of the tremors begin to ease, he eased his grip correspondingly. By the time she was down to hiccups he had both arms wrapped loosely around her waist, his chin resting on the side of her head. He wanted to be there to help her, but not to make her feel embarrassed or believe she had to physically withdraw from him for fear of impropriety. His worry about that was calmed when she tightened her grip on his arms to keep them around her.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said softly, when she had regained her voice. "That wasn't fair to dump on you. You've lost as many as I have."

"You needed to," John said, his words harsh, but softened by the cadence of his voice. "And as for the rest," he paused to sigh, "you didn't say one word that I haven't said myself."

Ignoring her startled response to his confession, he continued. "I think I even said those same words to Ford one night. You know what he told me?" John asked.

Elizabeth shook her head.

"He said that I wasn't to blame for what had happened, no one was but the Wraith. He reminded me that all us knew the risks when we came. Everybody that he had talked to had told their loved ones that they would probably never see them again, nor even know, for that matter, if they were alive or dead. He then said that it gave him great comfort to know that if something ever happened to him, that I - we" John corrected, gesturing to indicate both of them, "would at least let his grandparents know that much as soon as we could."

"And what did you say to him after that?" Elizabeth asked softly, trying to look back at him to gauge his response.

"There isn't much to say, is there, other than to remind yourself that it doesn't really matter what you think we can or can't do anymore. You do what you have to do," Sheppard said solemnly, looking out into the ocean, "to keep the ones here alive and to bring as much comfort as you can to the the ones back on earth waiting when you can't do that."

"I suppose you're right," she murmured, starring out at the ocean for a few minutes with him. A shiver ran through her as another gust of wind blew past them.

"You're freezing," John remarked, stepping away from her to take off his jacket and drape it over her, before wrapping himself back around her.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, her words implying she meant more than the coat. Turning to face him for the first time, she continued. "But now you'll get ..." Realizing there was a bandage on his arm, she changed what she was going to say. "You're hurt."

"Just a scratch," John said dismissively, hoping to calm the concern for him he heard and saw in her countenance. Skimming his thumb over her cheek to wipe off the last of the tears lingering there, he added, "Beckett says I won't even have a scar."

"Uh huh," Elizabeth said skeptically. If it was so minor, why was his entire forearm encased in gauze? He had been hurt, even to the point of dying before, and had barely admitted he was in pain. She made a mental note to asked Doctor Beckett about it as she said, "What happened to you?"

"I just made the mistake of letting Rodney go up a boulder strewn hill AHEAD of me," he explained dryly. "Remind me to pack some extra padding the next time we have to go rock climbing, will ya? Or better yet, remind me to leave Rodney here."

"That may be best," she chuckled, allowing the grief that had encompassed her to move the background for a minute. "Any luck in finding a place we could fall back to if we have to detonate the self destruct?" Elizabeth asked, her features sobering again.

"Not yet," John replied. "But McKay said he might be able to come up with a couple more places we could look."

Nodding her agreement, she looked deeply into John's eyes. "You're not confident we'll find anything, are you?"

Shrugging, Sheppard looked over Weir's shoulder at the water. "You never know."

Reading in his features there was something else on his mind, Elizabeth frowned. "What?"

Shifting, he brought his gaze back to her face. He hadn't planned on talking about this right now, but he may not have the chance again soon. "Even if we find something, how long until the Wraith track us down. Then what? We run again? For how long? Where?" Shaking his head slowly, he rubbed his hands down her arms to soften what he was going to say next. "I think that it would be better for everyone if we made our stand here. If we are successful, we'll be better off than on a planet. If not," he shrugged, trying to ease his words with a tender smile. "I'd rather die here trying to save Atlantis and the people on it, than running for a while knowing it would only be a matter of time."

Searching his face, Elizabeth read the depth of his conviction in it. She had no doubt that he would sacrifice himself if he believed it could make a difference. Dropping her head, she closed her eyes to hide the new tears that had appeared at the thought of losing him. Trying to find the words to counter his argument, she came up with nothing.

"You know I'm right," he said feeling the battle within her. Pulling her closer, he placed a soft kiss in her hair before deliberately changing the subject. "It's getting colder out here. You ready to go back in now?" he asked.

"I suppose we should," she said quietly, her mind still battling with the declaration he had just made. Taking a few steps toward the door, she halted their progress by grabbing his arm. "If we are faced with a situation and we have to hold our ground, promise me you won't do anything to die needlessly. Swear to me it will only be when all other options have run out and even then, if there is the slightest chance something else might work, you'll do that instead." Pinning him with her eyes, the grip she had on his arm tightened. "Promise me," she whispered desperately.

"I promise. Last ditch effort," he swore without hesitation, knowing full well it was one he would be unlikely to keep. But, he would try. For her, he would try.

the end

Original: 7/31/05

Altered: May 2014


End file.
